


Harry Potter and the Kings and Queens of Narnia

by tori_cat13



Series: Wardrobe Malfunction [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dumbledore did WHAT to our school??!!, Lucy got her red train, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Time Travel, WHY ARE WE DEAGED AGAIN, calm down lucy, calm down peter, they were obvious ones too, why did i forget which other tags i was going to add
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tori_cat13/pseuds/tori_cat13
Summary: The Pevensies have been transported through time. And de-aged. Again. Will they be able to bring Hogwarts back to the strength and safe haven she was meant to be? And maybe adopt a little brother and foil a manipulative Headmaster's plans along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

    Albus Dumbledore wouldn't consider himself a bad man; on the contrary he would say that all he ever did was in service to the Greater Good. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but that is neither here nor there. For he was at this very moment, considering the very unusual paperwork laying on his desk. No stranger to paperwork, it was the nature of it that had him pressing his fingertips contemplatively to his chin.  

    Transfer students. Four of them even. Transfers were rare on themselves, but to have  _four_ of them was unheard of. At least for all the time that he had been at Hogwarts. What to do, what to do. Pevensie wasn't a wizarding name-however, it was uncommon to have so many siblings be magical. Usually, it was only one or two. The children must be half-bloods then. No parents to speak of.... Arrangements would have to be made for summers then. If he accepted them into his school. As Headmaster it was his prerogative and they could not, after all, afford the tuition, unless of course he sponsored them with a scholarship. Speaking of sponsors... He glanced back down at the files. The one who had brought this before him was... Amelia Bones. How interesting. If it had been Lucius Malfoy he would have turned them away out of hand. 

    Lucius Malfoy. His Master was definitely not as dead as the public believed. And young Harry would be starting school soon. Voldemort will undoubtedly begin to stir. The Prophecy, after all, was only half fulfilled. Yes, when the time comes... Dumbledore sighed softly. Yes, it would fall to Young Harry's shoulder's to rid the world of the evil that was Voldemort. Dumbledore would only be able to guide young Harry from the sidelines, as a mentor or grandfather, perhaps. And the boy would need friends. Yes, it wouldn't do for the Boy-Who-Lived to be influenced by the wrong sort. Merlin knows how the world would cope with a second Tom Riddle. And with young Harry's family life and his power, the Prophecy  _did_ after all call him The Dark Lord's Equal. 

    A shudder ran up his spine as his mind gave him detailed images of what could happen to the wizarding world if Harry turned Dark. Or Merlin forbid,  _joined_ Voldemort. A chill went down his spine as if someone had walked over his grave. No, the Boy-Who-Lived could not be allowed to be influenced by the Dark.

    Plans would be made. Dumbledore had already given the Dursley's strict instructions not to tell Harry of his magical background. No, the boy would be a clean slate. Albus suspected the Dursley's might not have doted upon him as they would surelydo to their own son (he had left instructions about that as well; it wouldn't do for the boy to have a fat head) so he felt it appropriate for the boy's first encounter with the magical world to be steeped in kindness. Hagrid would be perfect for that; and if he talked about the headmaster to the soon-to-be student in a praising fashion, well surely no harm would come of it. Or if Hagrid shared with Harry his disdain of a certain house, all the better to warn the boy off early. It wouldn't do for the Boy-Who-Lived to be sorted into Slytherin. And friends..? Molly and Arthur had a son his age, did they not? A Gryffindor family if ever there was, loyal to Albus as well, and a legendary hatred off all things Slytherin to boot. Yes, he would make a good friend for young Harry. A best friend, surely. 

    That settled, how to go about ensuring the boy's potential and worth. A test of some sort? Like the Trials of old. The ones a hero would have before facing off against the ultimate evil, very fitting. Now, what test.... A tournament maybe? No, no he would only be a first year. The tournament could wait until he was about fourteen. Hm, young men always love going on adventures. And treasure hunts.... Treasures....And if this treasure could perhaps lure a certain wayward student out from hiding and test Harry's mettle so much the better. The boy would need to face Voldemort at some point anyway. And Voldemort has always chased after immortality, what better way to entice him than through a stone capable of producing the Elixir of Life?

     Plans set for the coming years, he turned his attention back to the transfer papers. Another war would be brewing, these young ones could be vital soldiers for the Light. And if the knew they had their Headmaster to thank for their enrollment and  _scholarship_ well, gratitude is a powerful force of devotion, just ask Remus Lupin. Yes, he could use these four. 

      In Her HeartStone room Hogwarts heard of his plans and laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September 1, 1991 and the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are eager to return to her storied halls. As are her Founders.

     The last year was rather eventful for the Pevensie's. After being unceremoniously foisted from their time ( _again_ ), they were given an absolute crash course in the time and place they were to live now ( _again_ ), they were forced from the Castle and dropped into a small half wizarding village where they gained assistance from an unlikely source happening by. A source by the name of Amelia Bones. 

    Amelia wasn't even supposed to be in Godric's Hollow that day. But there was a call about a feral kneazle rampaging and terrorizing the neighborhood dogs and children and everyone else was busy with various assignments and the security measures for the recently passed Train Day as they had taken to calling it. Children (and even some wizarding parents) were seriously such a danger to the Statute of Secrecy when walking among muggles and sending their children off to school. Every year Amelia was amazed at the amount of Obliviations that occurred every September First and Second.

    So here she was, in Godric's Hollow, on an assignment sorely beneath her pay level. She was the Head of the DMLE, she shouldn't be chasing after "rampaging" kneazles, doubtless the animal just escaped out the door. But at least it got her away from her frankly frightening amount on paperwork. Morgana, give her a kneazle chase over Robard's dry reports any day. 

   She did indeed come across a rampaging kneazle (a memory she would definitely share with her niece). Rampaging, might I add, in a tree. Making a terrible ruckus, leaves flying everywhere. She was moving to subdue it when a clear, high voice started singing in a foreign language. It seemed to be a lullaby and acted to soothe the kneazle's ire. Amelia turned to the voice, wand in hand and on the defensive. What she found was a strange sight, though perhaps not the strangest. 

    A young girl with golden hair, she couldn't have been more than eleven, wearing a creme and white dress with pale pink embroidery stood singing with her hands outstretched towards the tree and the kneazle within in supplication. Next to her stood and older girl with black hair and blue eyes, seeming to be around fourteen. She had one hand upon the girl's shoulder, her shoulders straight, giving off an air of restrained wisdom, as a Guide of Olde would have, perhaps. A boy with equally dark hair and green eyes, stared intently while the last, a handsome young man also with gold hair and blue eyes stood. He gave the distinct air of being the leader and protector of the group, his eyes scanning the surroundings, hand settling subtly on the sword strapped to his hips. All of them were dressed in Wizarding styles and had weapons, which was unusual as most wizards these days thought weapons a rather muggle-and therefore disdainful- way of fighting, much preferring wands. 

    The kneazle had, at this time, calmed down considerably and had made its way out of the tree and was cautiously approaching the girl, who knelt down, all the while singing. Amelia slowly made her way over to the group as the young girl stood up, kneazle in arms. The four made no move to run but a subtle shifting and tensing in all of them let her battle-honed eyes know that they were ready to defend themselves at the slightest provocation. Well, time to ease those particular worries. 

    "Excuse me. First off, I'd like to thank you for your assistance, unknowing as it would have been. My name is Amelia Bones, I was sent to investigate this whole mess. I will need to return that to its owner, but I would like to ask for the names of the ones who helped me." She sheathed her wand as a gesture of good will. Normally, this would be the last thing she would do, however, her magic and her instincts were telling her that these were no normal children and that they deserved her consideration and mayhap even her respect. After all, the kind of watchful tenseness and awareness that this group of children exuded was more commonly found in hardened soldiers. 

     The four shared looks among each other in which whole conversations were had. Amelia could only grasp the basics of what was exchanged in within those looks as the Leader stepped forward, drawing her attention and simultaneously shielding the others. "My name is Peter Pevensie. This is my brother Edmund"-they each nodded when introduced in turn-" my sisters Susan and the young one who sang, Lucy."

    "Yes, quite extraordinary, calming a raging animal through song. Has she always been able to do so? And what language, if you don't mind my asking, was the song in? I've never heard it before."

     "Oh, it's just a little thing Lucy was taught to do by a friend of the family. Really, it's no big deal, anyone could do it, Lucy in particular has a certain... affinity and attachment to magical creatures." A wry corner pf Peter's mouth turned up when he thought of how, out of all of them, Lucy was closest to Aslan. 

     "Extraordinary," Amelia murmured. Speaking directly to Lucy, "I have a niece that I've raised who is about your age. She's set to start Hogwarts next school year." A question about their schooling implied in what was left unsaid. They heard the question loud and clear though. 

     Susan spoke next. "Our living arrangements have radically changed recently"-that was for sure-"and we've found ourselves somewhat adrift"-understatement-". You see, our guardian recently passed." This gained a sharp glance from Edmund, wondering why she was spinning this particular tale. The woman was clearly law enforcement and would now undoubtedly ask about whomever was supposed to be their guardian now, which was no one but he remained silent as his sister continued, " He took us with him on his travels, teaching us everything he could and hiring tutors when he couldn't. He encouraged our independence, taught us look after ourselves, defend ourselves from anything and everything we might encounter. As such, we've only recently moved back to England."

    "So you've never actually been to a school," Amelia surmised. "Who is looking after you now?" She couldn't just let this go. Not  _legally._  

    Susan had always had sharp intuition, very nearly foresight. She knew Good when she saw it and Amelia Bones was Good and Just down to her core. She was help they would need. Now and in the future. So she entrusted herself and her siblings to this woman's care. It would be better than being Dumbledore's wards at least. 

    "We... don't have anyone legally looking after us right now." She admitted. 

    Amelia's eyebrows went up, while only one of Peter's went up, and both of Edmund's went down. Lucy remained serene. She had much the same ability as Susan except her's was more a judgement of character and what they would be to her and her siblings. 

    "Legally," Amelia deadpanned. "You don't have anyone  _legally_ looking after you. She sighed. They were obviously magical, and of age to go to Hogwarts. That, she could do for them. She, unlike Dumbledore though, did not believe it wise to leave magical children with muggles, especially leaving orphaned magical children to the muggle System. She looked at them again, with a discerning eye, saw they way they stood straight, their carriage noble, and felt the way her magic recognized them in some unconscious way, and knew her instincts about them were not wrong. 

    It looked like Susan would get those housemate/siblings she always wanted.

 

 

 

 

    King’s Cross Station was flooded with crowds. To the Pevensie “children” this was simply astounding. The last time they had seen this station-or rather a station like this in another dimension-was in the midst of Wartime. Now, contrary to all the fears they and others had harbored, England and its citizens were flourishing. And they were not German. To the Pevensie’s it was wonderful and amazing and a testament to mankind’s will to survive, adapt, and thrive. It was truly a beautiful sight.

     Children were skipping around their parents chattering like so many birds. Adults bustled to and fro, going about their day. Laughter occasionally tickled through the air. In and amongst the crowds, however were the odd- and I do mean odd in every way- child with trunks and an animal-a toad, a cat, or an owl.

   Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy passed three of such children on the way to, as their tickets proclaimed, “Platform 9 ¾." Amelia had offered to take them with her when she saw her niece off but they had stated a desire to rent a room in the Alley after getting their supplies and to take the "muggle entrance" for the experience. They passed a chubby boy with an elder lady, a freckled boy with a thick Irish accent, and a dark skinned boy holding a terrarium. Not having been told how to get onto the platform only stymied them briefly before they decided it was just logical that the entrance be hidden in plain sight and the best place for that was the pillars. While inspecting the spaces between platforms nine and ten they came across a small boy with wild black hair, brilliant green eyes, and a helpless sort of confused I'm-lost-but-have-no-idea-who-to-ask-for-help aura. Lucy's eyes fell upon him and she stilled, causing her siblings to look at her with concern before turning to the boy. 

     They all had a similar response. Peter looked at the boy and saw a small figure hugging his elbows to himself and he bit his lip and looked around. A fierce protectiveness that rivaled even what he felt for his siblings rose in him. Susan looked upon the boy and saw the over-sized and worn clothes, the not-quite-healthy slimness to the boy and felt the need to care for the waif in front of her. Edmund looked at the boy and saw wild hair and green eyes and hints of bruises peeking out from underneath the rags the boy wore. But more than anything he saw the hard and slightly hunted look in his eyes as the boy scanned his surroundings. Edmund more than anything saw what lurked beneath. And he knew this boy was his. Lucy looked at this boy and saw Family. 

     So naturally she flounced over. 

 

 

 

 

 

     Harry was not having a very good day. He had been so very excited to go to the school his parents- his  _not useless drunkard parents, his brave and heroic parents-_ had attended. That excitement dimmed however, when he had to return to the Dursley's for the remainder of the summer. His aunt and uncle seemed determined to "remind him of his place" and work him enough to make up for the next ten months' absence. At least they had taken him to the station, though it was little wonder why, now that he was here and understood the uproarious laughter that had issued from them as they looked at his ticket. 

      _How was he supposed to find the platform if no one told him how to_ find _it?_ Harry internally almost-ranted before smothering out the dark feelings. He couldn't let himself dwell on them. It would do nothing to change his circumstances. Feeling hatred just made it harder to hide. And he had to hide. He always had to hide. 

    So that was how Harry found himself at King's Cross Station, glancing at the clock every few seconds, as if it would change drastically and he would miss the train and his ride to freedom if he didn't constantly check it. The personnel had been of no help whatsoever, going so far as to look at Harry as if he thought Harry were a delinquent having him on.  _That's probably exactly what he thought._  

    "Hi!" A bright voice chirped at him, startling him badly enough that his heart skipped a beat and he had to grab his chest. 

    "Lucy, don't go startling the poor boy. It looks like you scared him halfway to his grave." Another voice reproved, deeper but still really young. 

    Harry looked up to see a girl around his age (though she looked a few years older since he looked more like an eight or nine year old) with golden hair and the bluest eyes he had even seen. They had a soul deep joy and vivacity that he had never encountered before; it seemed to settle something in his own soul just meeting those eyes. The boy who had reprimanded her came up flanking her, laying a hand on her shoulder and pulling her backwards slightly, out of Harry's personal space as if aware of how uncomfortable it made Harry even though Harry had yet to consciously acknowledge it. He was dark to the girl- Lucy-'s light. Jade green eyes sent a shiver down Harry's spine when green met green. He felt like his very soul was exposed to those eyes. Harry let his gaze travel past the boy to where two others were coming up to the group. The golden elder boy had eyes the deep blue of night. A warmth Harry had never felt before enveloped him as he met  _that_ gaze. He dropped his gaze to his shoes, foot scuffing the floor in an unconscious gesture of bashfulness. He got over it and looked to the last of the group. Her hair was as black as the other boy's but her eyes were a blue, warmed by an emotion that made Harry feel a softer version of the warmth he felt at the eldest boy's gaze. 

    The golden boy spoke up in the explanatory and slightly exasperated way older siblings always do when half excusing something their siblings have done, "I'm Peter, this is Susan, Edmund, and the one who startled you so badly is Lucy. I'm sorry about her. She just gets overly excited sometimes."

    "It's no problem." Harry said. "I should have been paying better attention."

    Hedwig hooted, tired of being ignored. And caged. 

    "Lucy brightened even further. "She's a very beautiful owl. And so majestic. Yes you are. So smart and kind and loyal." She crooned to the owl, who bobbed her head as if she understood and whole-heartedly agreed. (She did, to both.)

    Edmund smirked at the by-play before offering his fingers for the owl to inspect. "What's this beauty's name?" He asked, eyes staying on Harry for the entire question before glancing to the owl at the end as she clicked her beak and nipped his fingers; he had passed muster it seemed. 

     Harry flushed, confused as to why, but answered the question anyway, "Her name is Hedwig; she was a gift for my birthday," he said with quiet pride, still glowing from getting a present, a  _birthday present_. It still amazed him; that he would get a present, that someone would give him a  _gift_ for simply having been born. 

    "And what's your name, luv?" Susan asked, the endearment slipping out naturally and without meaning to. 

    "H-harry," he stuttered out, not used to even the  _idea_ of being called by a term of  _endearment_ instead of terms of hatred and disgust. "Just Harry."

    "Well, Just Harry. Are you having trouble getting onto the platform?" Peter asked. 

    "Yea-um. Platform. Um." Harry stopped, unsure what to say. They had no visible bags or cats or owls; they might not even be magical. Better to not blow the Statute and get expelled. Especially not before school even started. 

    Edmund looked at Harry's face again. "It's okay, Harry. We're students of Hogwarts as well. Transfers, actually. Which is why we're still out here. We don't exactly know where the entrance is either. But we have a pre-" 

    He was interrupted by a loud voice that...carried, "-every year,  _packed_ with muggles! Percy dear, do you have your owl and everything? Oh, my baby boy! A _Prefect_ at  _Hogwarts!_ I'm so proud! Ginny dear, do you remember the platform number?"

   "Platform 9 3/4! Can I go too, mum? Please oh please oh please!"

    "Now, now, Ginny," the voice came from the mother of a group of redheads that walked past. "You'll be going next year."

    "Guess we won't have to find the entrance now. We can just follow the bellowing redheads." Peter sighed. Honestly. 

   Lucy had been quiet for a while, but knew she was running out of time. "It was nice meeting you, Harry. I'm a first year too. I hope you'll still be my friend,even if we end up in different houses. And friends with my brothers and sisters. We all really like you."

     Harry was at a loss for words. No one had ever really  _wanted_ to be his friend before. Even the ones who had approached him before only felt pity for him and didn't really want him. Maybe these four were the same. So he studied them again. Lucy was all but  _shining_ with sincerity, meeting his gaze unflinchingly with slightly pleading eyes. No, she was genuine. But were the others? Peter and Susan had warm expressions and they looked at him with something like...pride..? In their eyes. The warmth from before spread through him and he wondered if this was what most people felt being around parents. And there was Edmund. The other was watching him intently something in his eyes that caused Harry's breath to hitch before Edmund's lips quirked into a smile that transformed his face; gone were the shadows that had previously gathered there. His eyes had softened too. Edmund gave a small nod, agreeing with Lucy's statement that he would like to be Harry's friend. 

    Harry felt his eyes start to itch but it had been years since he cried and he wasn't about to on a crowded platform in front of people who  _wanted to be his friends_ just because he had been shown kindness. He turned away, about to move to ask the red headed lady how to get onto the platform. Fingers slid across the side of his neck, carding briefly through the hair at the base of his skull and petting the back of his neck in a- somehow- reassuring touch. Harry had never been touched like that. He turned back in time to see Edmund's hand falling back to his side. 

    "We'll see each other on the boat ride, Harry. Go make some more friends." He said. 

    Harry nodded somewhat hesitantly, before turning to the red headed family, who were  _still_ talking about muggles and Hogwarts and Platform 9 3/4. He worked up his courage to ask how to get past the barrier. The woman was very kind, she called him "dear" and patted his head and shoulder. Harry couldn't help but compare it and her to Peter and Susan, and Edmund. 


	3. Chapter 3

    They stopped when they crossed the barrier. There in front of them was the Hogwarts Express, a magnificent beast. In _scarlet_.

    Lucy squealed in excitement. Loudly. It echoed, causing more than a few to look towards them, some of the better dressed ones sneering in distaste.

    Lucy’s excitement could be understood. After all, it had been her dream for students to come to Hogwarts on a red train. It had been impossible during the time after they had built the school but apparently someone had passed along Helga Hufflepuff’s dearest wish and lo, the Hogwarts Express was what it became today.

    Edmund slowly closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

    “Congratulations on your wish coming true, Lucy.” Peter said. “Now, we should find a place to sit. I wonder if we should—no, we have things to discuss first. Later, we can see about sitting with Harry, first let’s find a car.”

    And so they trudged along, shrunken luggage still in their pockets and found a compartment in record time.

   “First things first: how are we going to Sort? We have the attributes for all the houses and being the Founders we have precedence over the Hat but still. What should we do?” Peter asked.

    “Well, we were brought here because the way the Headmaster is running our beloved school to the ground, among other things.” Edmund let out a heavy sigh. “This is why the Headmaster or Mistress was never supposed to have obligations outside the School, and _certainly_  not an agenda in the political arena. It’s going to be the ruin of the school and all we worked for.”

    “What do you mean?” Susan asked though she had a fairly good idea. Edmund always had a way of summarizing situations and his thoughts that she admired.

    “I mean, take this latest War for instance. Light magic versus Dark magic-which is ridiculous in itself- Dumbledore the leader of the Light, with his trusted fighters, fighters that were _straight out of Hogwarts_. He used our school, not as the safe haven we intended it to be, but as a _recruitment ground_. It’s disgusting, forcing children to f—ah. Well.” He stopped, remembering that he had been just ten when they fought in the war to save Narnia, the first time anyway. “Anyway, Hogwarts is a _school_. It should have been kept out of the war, and our students with it. But no, instead Dumbledore and this Dark Lord _squabbled_ over her like children who can’t share. Now, from what I’ve heard and seen, Slytherin House has a reputation of being nothing but pureblood extremists and Dark, evil Wizards who will only ever be ‘slimy snakes’ that stab everyone in the back. Meanwhile, Gryffindor House turns out nothing but sainted heroes. That makes for one hell of a tense atmosphere. No doubt Dumbledore does nothing to help inter-house relations. Plus, he has to be away as part of his duties to the Wizengamot.

    “But anyways, Sorting… There are a few options. I’m sure we all know the real reason we’re here, having met him after all: Harry. I know each of us had different reactions--”

    “Which we _will_  be discussing,” Peter interrupted.

    Edmund bit his tongue but nodded and continued, “We could all go to whichever House Harry goes to but seeing as we might get sorted before him….” He trailed off before starting again, “Or we could go into _our_  houses. In this way we could, from the inside, observe just what damage has been done to our school and ideals. It would have the added benefit of giving us those inter-house relations to work on; after all, they could hardly expect us to start hating each other simply for being in different houses. There are some other options but I think these two are the most promising.”

    There was silence as they thought these over. Slowly Susan started speaking, “They do seem to be the best options. In the first we could all be there for Harry, to help him do what he needs to, to train him, and teach him, and help him grow. The second one however, seems to offer so much more. We could still be the same thing to Harry, _and_  assess the state of affairs, though Edmund toeing that line might get a little hard, especially the closer to the event, what with being ‘an evil Slytherin’ and all. But I’m sure he can do it. So… the best option..?”

    “Yes,” Lucy said in an uncharacteristically serious voice, “returning to our Houses, this time as students ourselves does seem to be the best option for moving forwards. I’m just glad we managed to meet Harry.”

    “And first, at that; that was a stroke of luck.” Edmund said, eyes darkening with his thoughts.

    “First?” Peter and Lucy echoed.

    “Yes. That woman screeching about the place being packed with muggles every year-as if one could expect any less- and having a child old enough to be a _prefect_ in Hogwarts and still needing to ask what the platform name was? No, she was a plant. Someone wanted a meeting between her and the target.”

    “The target,” Peter murmured. “And the only one lost on that platform was Harry. Seeing our reactions to him, he most definitely is important. So who was the woman? Whose pawn was she? And why introduce her to Harry while making it look like him approaching her, under pure happenstance?”

    “Why else? She’s a pawn, pawns follow their king. They’re loyal to them. Harry… I get the feeling hasn’t had much in the love and affection category, nor the nice adult category, nor the responsible and good guardian category. The way she called him ‘dear’ and patted him… She was practically dripping motherly concern and affection. They want him to latch onto her as a caregiver of a sort.”

    “Yes,” Peter said slowly, “and speaking of touching, would you mind explaining, Edmund?”

    “It was rather odd,” Susan said, Lucy nodding beside him.

    “Only if we _all_  do,” Edmund drawled. Not having missed the pretty uncharacteristic responses Harry had invoked in all the Pevensie’s.

    “Well, I feel nearly overwhelmingly protective of him. Like I do for you and Lucy and Susan but perhaps even more so because he’s just eleven and he’s so small and he looks so frail and it’s obvious he wouldn’t be able to handle himself in dangerous situations like the two of you could, if only because you have training. I feel…fatherly, I guess you could say.” Peter was the first to speak.

    Next was Susan: “I…felt the need to take care of him. What can I say, he’s just so skinny; any woman’s motherly instincts would kick in around him.”

    “You all know about my character judging skills,” Lucy explained. “Harry… feels like Family, in so many ways and in so many senses of the word. He is Friend and he is Hope and he is Family.”

   “Well,” Edmund stated. “He may be small and unhealthily skinny with bruises but that boy is mine. He’s one of mine, I guess I should say. That boy. Is a snake.”

    Peter protested, “Now come on now, he could be just as easily one of my lions or Helga’s badgers or Rowena’s eagles; He’s not been Sorted yet.”

    “Then you didn’t see the look in his eye as he looked around the station. That boy is a snake if ever I saw one. Even if he’s a snake that hides in the grass.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

    The rest of the train ride was uneventful except for two interruptions; the first interruption being an arrogant blond boy demanding to know if the black haired, green eyed Edmund was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

    The second was longer and a bit more aggravating. A loud- and rather rude- girl with bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth barged into the compartment dragging the teary faced chubby boy from earlier.

     “This is Neville. He lost his toad. Have any of you seen it?”

   The stared at her for a second before Edmund spoke, “No, we haven’t seen a toad. However, every student’s familiar is be drawn to Hogwarts during and after the train ride anyways, so he will more than likely show up there around the time we do, or possibly even earlier.”

    “How do you know that?” The girl asked (demanded). “It wasn’t mentioned in Hogwarts: A History and something that important would be in a book.

    Edmund’s eyebrow twitched in slight irritation at the condescending tone from a girl _decades_ his junior about knowledge of _his_  castle.

    Susan cut in, “Regardless of where my brother got the information or even whether or not it’s true, have you thought to go to a prefect who could Summon it for you?”

   “That’s a brilliant idea!” She exclaimed before dragging Neville back out of the compartment.

   She gets distracted by the sounds of loud laughter coming from a compartment further down the train while escorting Neville back from the prefect who Summoned his toad for him. She looks in to see two first year boys. It’s the red haired one making the noise, she finds she likes the sound of it. The small black haired boy is smiling slightly and she finds herself longing with everything she is to be with them, to be a part of their little group, their laughter. But she never has been able to relate to her peers well and finds it hard to find conversation topics to talk about when not on- as her parents would call them “crusades”- but she gathers her resolve anyway and barges in asking if they’ve seen a toad. They haven’t but, knowing it’s been found anyway, she uses the first excuse to stay.

     And that is how Hermione Granger met Harry Potter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     Someone had decided it would better dazzle the Pevensie’s if their “first” view of Hogwarts was of the Castle aglow at night from the Lake. So, even though only one of them would be a first year, all four of them were to ride in the boats.

    This was also where they saw the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts (“What on earth does that even _mean_?”), one Rubeus Hagrid.  The man obviously had giant blood in him for her towered over them at seven feet and then some. “Alrigh’ there, Harry?” The big man boomed, catching the attention of several students and causing them to look at the object of the inquiry. Harry shifted, uncomfortable with the attention but answered with an affirmative.

    With a silent conversation the Pevensie’s split up, a small fight over who would go to Harry’s boat, with Edmund coming out on top.

    Harry was with one of the red heads from earlier and the boy, Neville. The Irish kid was about to amble up but seeing Edmund there, walked off instead. Edmund made sure to come up at least slightly from the side, so Harry would see him before greeting him with a “hello, Harry.”

    Harry tilted his head back and towards him, “Hello, Edmund.”

    “Harry,” the red head demanded, “who’s he? I thought you didn’t know anyone else? You said you lived with you muggle aunt and uncle.”

    Harry winced almost unnoticeably. Edmund would have as well; it was clearly not news one would really want going around, for multiple reasons.

    Edmund decided to save Harry the trouble and introduced himself, “My name is Edmund Pevensie. I met Harry on the muggle side of the platform along with my siblings. And you are?”

   “I’m Ron Weasley, Harry Potter’s best friend.”

    The way he announced that, the way he pronounced Harry’s name- as if it was a title- instead of a reference to a person, the circumstances behind the meeting; Edmund glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye. His snake should know this one is just after him for his own selfish reasons, not as part of a desire to personally be friends with Harry. Harry’s face was unreadable but his eyes were dark; yes, he knew but was letting the loud child stay anyway. Was Harry truly so desperate? _Probably,_ Edmund thought. _I would be. I had been_.

    They loaded onto the boats. Harry glanced at the creature pulling the boat, a creature no eleven year old should see. Edmund could see it, but then, his soul was over a century old, he had had children, of course he could see it. But Harry…Edmund clenched his teeth and tried to control the urge to rip whatever monster it was that made Harry able to see that creature to shreds. It was not an easy thing to do; this was one of his snakes, and Edmund was nothing if not fiercely protective of what he considered his. Plus, they didn’t call him Edmund the Just, for nothing.

    Harry trailed his hand along the water as the boat moved. Edmund made ready to grab the back of his robes for when the inevitable drowning attempt started. Honestly, you would think the mers would, after centuries, give up trying that, even if they were “just having a little fun” as they put it. There was a yank but very surprising indeed, the mermaid let Harry go before he could fall in, or was even really pulled off balance. Curious. Edmund still grasped the back of Harry’s robes and pulled him back down into the seat next to him.

    Mumbled thanks from Harry were drowned out from all the gasps and Hogwarts Castle came into view. Even Edmund was left breathless at the sight. For so, so long ago this area had no castle and the Hogwarts Founders had no idea what to do, and then they were told to build a school. And they stood and imagined it in all its breath-taking beauty, of what it would look like at night, with the sky a heavy blanket of stars and the windows all ablaze and reflecting the lights from the castle and the lights from the stars.

     And now, well, they got to see the imaginings first hand and in real life. Side by side, gazing up at the castle in all her glory the two had only one thought, _“I’m finally home.”_


	4. Chapter 4

    Severus Snape was a man who did not suffer fools gladly. This was unfortunate, seeing as how his job was to teach irresponsible, hyperactive children with the attention spans of hamsters high on cocaine a very dangerous art. He had been petitioning Albus for smaller classes- or at the _very_ least- assistants from upper years to help keep watch over the cauldrons in case any of the more… high-spirited thought it was a fabulous idea to throw random ingredients in and see what would happen. Honestly, with all the stress from worrying, he felt that his entire head should be grey. But Albus kept turning his petition down every year; just like he kept turning down his application for the Defense post. ( _No,_ Severus wasn’t bitter, _at all._ )

    He let out a sigh as he turned his attention to the latest batch of dunderheads. Every year he was forced to put the fear of God into the brats; doubtless this year would be worse than usual what with his old school nemesis’ spawn being one of the new ones. “Raised as a Prince,” Albus had assured him and Minerva. No doubt he would be just as arrogant as his father, with no sign of his precious Lily to be seen.

    The doors opened and in filed the line of awe-faced urchins. _Dear Merlin, do they get smaller every year?_ He wondered. One of them didn’t even look like an eleven year old. Surely that one was too young to be attending. Brightness caught his eye before he could look closer and he groaned. _Another Weasley; how many were they going to inflict on him?_ A vague sense of hopelessness enveloped him, memories of the horrors caused by the Demon Twins of Hogwarts flashing through his mind. He resolutely rebooted his brain and continued surveying the first years, feeling his eyebrows raise as he saw two, no…three, that looked too old to be first years. He glanced at the Headmaster who was sitting upon his golden chair (throne) with his eyes twinkling like some sort of benign ruler watching his over his subjects. Of course the old man could not be bothered to keep his staff apprised of any unusual situations to occur _. Transfer students_ , he mused. _How curious_. Inspecting the three more closely, _how curious indeed._ They held themselves with a grace that was uncommon to find in ones so young, more commonly found in soldiers with every confidence in themselves and their abilities. _No, make that one more._ He hadn’t seen her at first since she herself appeared to be the same as any other first year, but there was no mistaking that posture, or that magic.

    Every magician had a signature unique unto themselves; however, family members often gave off a similar…feel. These four could only be siblings. They stood near the back of the procession. They were amongst the tallest (three of them being older, of course they’d be taller) making the small black haired one next to them look all the tinier. That shaggy head…. Glasses caught the light and Severus felt his jaw clench. Yes, that was most definitely Potter’s spawn. And of course, _of course,_ the newest Weasley addition was obnoxiously yacking the boy’s ear off. Severus could just _see_ the destruction those two would wreak on the school. The boy turned his face towards the high table and the Potion’s Master felt his breath catch in his throat, _Lily’s eyes._ His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed before he looked to Minerva as she started the Sorting. A refrain of _he has Lily’s eyes_ played in his head.

     The first child went to Hufflepuff, the second to Ravenclaw, and on in a similar fashion, most not taking longer than a minute or two. There were of course a few Hatstalls (Granger, Hermione; “Gryffindor!”) a few surprises (Longbottom, Neville; “Gryffindor!”) before getting to one of the ones that had so caught his attention earlier (Pevensie, Lucy; “Hufflepuff!”). Then came the name that caused an uproar of whispering: Potter, Harry.

   Severus’ eyes narrowed-along with another’s (though this other’s was much less noticeable)- as the younger transfer boy squeezed Potter’s shoulder before sliding down his back and giving a supportive nudge forwards that prompted the boy to move. The hat was placed upon the bird’s nest the child called hair and it seemed as if the entire hall-minus Severus, of course- held their breaths waiting for the announcement of which House the Boy-Who-Lived would be sorted into.

    They had to hold their breaths for a while. _Seems Potter was going to be an attention whore just like his father from the very beginning,_ Severus sneered to himself.  _As if there was ever any doubt about where the brat will go._

    After 6 minutes, seven seconds, and thirteen milliseconds exactly the hat called out, “Gryffindor!” Severus felt vindicated. _Yes, exactly like his thrice-damned father._

    The first years finished their Sorting (Zabini, Blaise; “Slytherin!”) when the Headmaster held up a hand and stood, his voice capturing the attention of every student, “First I would like to welcome back all those returning for another year in these vaunted halls; how pleasing it is to see each and every one of you once again. And to those who are new to this school; many happy wishes for the years to come. But now, as you have all undoubtedly noticed, we have a momentous occurrence: transfer students, young Peter, Susan, and Edmund Pevensie. They will be entering their third and second years, respectively.” He gestured to indicate that Peter and Susan would be third years while Edmund would start his second. “I am sure,” he said, “that you will all help them-and the other new ones of course- to quickly become accustomed to life within these storied halls. Now, to wrap up this year’s Sorting and then, we eat.” He gave them all a winning smile.

    The eldest boy stepped forth first. None in the Halls would know this, but each Pevensie child would sit under the hat for exactly seven seconds. It was somehow of absolutely no surprise to Severus when the hat called out, “Gryffindor!” There was of course raucous claps and cheering from the Lions. The girl went to Ravenclaw and the last Pevensie went to Slytherin. Not unusual for siblings to be placed in differing houses, surely and yet…for each to go to a different House…also not the most common of things either. Severus had the feeling it would be wise to keep tabs on the Pevensie children.

    Down the table another two minds we thinking along similar lines as Severus, to a much lesser extent albeit. But then, the other two minds were those of the Chessboard’s Kings and not the spy each thought loyal to them, thus they did not have _quite_ the eye for game-altering pieces that Severus had developed to keep himself alive so their lesser criticism could be forgiven and was, indeed, welcomed.

    All told, Albus Dumbledore was pleased with the conclusion of the Welcoming Feast: his young weapon had successfully been Sorted Gryffindor and had by the looks of things made friends with the youngest male Weasley, and had-if rumours were to be believed- turned down the Malfoy heir’s hand in friendship. Not bad for a day’s meddling, he chuckled to himself. He was also quite proud of the voice-and-password activated Loyalty Draught he spiked the pumpkin juice with. It had the added bonus of shoring up his reputation as a slightly dotty and harmless old man. Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak; it was, after all, one of his more brilliant ideas.


	5. Chapter 5

    The Pevensie’s were, to put it simply, _not amused._ In the month or so of attending classes they had noted a myriad of problems, problems of every shape and variety imaginable- and quite a few that were not. The school, while still being open (“That’s something at least.” Peter had snorted derisively.), was only using a _fraction_ of the space available within her halls. So much of the school was left unused that there were, each of them noted with incredulity, “lost” wings and halls and classrooms. The school was- well, the school was _lesser_ since they had left.

    “I am _so_ loathe to say this but…” Edmund let out a soul-deep sigh tinted in something like self-loathing as the four gathered to update each other on their observations and start making inroads in the way of house unity, “but that Malfoy brat-or rather his father, I’m still not convinced the kid has an original thought in his head- is right: this place has gone to the dogs.”

    “The castle is rather bad off,” Susan said gently.

    Peter rolled his eyes, “Rather bad off? No, Susan, rather bad off is-is- _rather bad off_ is any _one_ of the problems we’ve found! Not all of them together! The castle its self is _rather bad off_ what with only having _one squib and the **house elves** _ maintaining her. _Rather bad off_ is that moving staircase with the ‘trick’ step. _Rather bad off_ is the almost murderous ‘rivalry’ between Gryffindor and Slytherin. What they’ve done to our school is-its-it’s a crime!” He finished indignantly.

   “I have to agree with Peter here, Susan. And Edmund; this is…a great, steaming pile of hippogriff poo.” Lucy said mulishly.  “I mean, they have a _ghost_ teaching History of Magic! It might seem fun and quirky to the muggleborns but they don’t learn anything in there!”

    Edmund’s brow wrinkled, “That might actually be the _point._ ” He saw their blank and slightly incredulous faces and continued, “Well, what better way to control the masses than to control what they believe- what they’re taught from a young age. Thinking about this whole situation from a strategist-and dictator-‘s point of view-it’s masterfully done I have to admit. And it _was_ done; it couldn’t have just _happened._ There’s no way-“

    “Edmund, just get to the point!” Susan and Peter exclaimed.

    “Don’t you see? Dazzle the muggleborns, get them on side showing them magic is fun and quirky and sometimes wizards don’t make sense and distract them from realizing they are _entering a whole new society with rules and customs and **history.**_ What’s the best way to make it in a foreign land?” He asked rhetorically, knowing that as _Kings and Queens_ they had an in-depth knowledge of handling foreign affairs- heck Susan and he regularly played ambassadors during Narnia’s Golden Age. “You learn their history, their customs, and their laws. You learn how to recognize when you’re being rude in their culture and you learn what’s important in their society.

    “The muggle-raised don’t get that here: The History of Magic is an extra nap time, Wizard Studies has apparently been discontinued, as has Magical Law. And practically every other class we taught.” He groaned in frustration at the thought of all the classes that had been cancelled, and the others echoed him in whole-hearted agreement. “This society-and set up of schooling- does nothing but perpetuate the class differences: muggleborns vs pureblood, Light vs Dark. Culturally they treat everyone like they should already know everything about their society, making the muggleborns ill at ease-and ill equipped- to deal with these and yet they hold back the education level to let the muggleborns play catch up while the wizard-raised and basically left to cool their heels, making them resentful of the muggleborns.

    “Then there’s the Holidays. Muggleborns wouldn’t even think there’s anything wrong with celebrating Halloween and Christmas and Easter, of course they wouldn’t they’ve been celebrating them _their whole lives_ , what could be wrong with that now that they are at a _magic school._ It’s all such a headache.” Edmund massaged his temple and put his head down on the table, tired of the whole situation; this was even worse than the Terebinthian Belly-Dancer Incident.

    “But your point was that _someone_ is responsible for this. Who? And better yet, _why?”_   Susan asked.

    Lucy, in an uncharacteristic show of disgust scrunched up her nose and said, “Three guesses who.”

   “Yes,” Peter dragged out the word, “Dumbledore. The man must have more hands than normal considering how many pies he has his fingers in. He collects titles like Lu collects cats.” He scoffed.

    Lucy pursed her lips but didn’t deny the claim. “I bet he has a hand in more- far more- than we know of right now.”

    Susan made a noise that would, in a lesser being, be described as a snort. “Without a doubt; that old man wouldn’t be able to stop meddling even on his death bed.”

    “He did seem unreasonably pleased that Harry ended up in Gryffindor. And vaguely disappointed and displeased I went to Slytherin,” Ed commented neutrally.

    “His plans to use you probably went up in smoke the moment that hat shouted out your house or at least shifted _dramatically_.” Peter said.

    “He’ll probably treat me the same way as he treats the rest of the Slytherins: with veiled disdain, mistrust, and with a generally wary disregard. Barring, of course, my getting close to members of other houses and/or his precious Boy-Who-Lived, then it’ll just be with suspicion and a heavy dose of veiled threats. On second thought, it’ll be _exactly_ like every other Slytherin.”

    Susan was horrified. “ _Threatening students_? How _dare_ that old man! Who does he think he is?! And why don’t the Slytherins tell someone?”

    Ed gave her a droll stare. “He’s Albus Bloody Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin-First Class, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwamp of the International Confederation of Wizards, Grand Sorcerer, Inventor of the Twelve Uses of Dragon’s Blood, and Defeater of Gellert Grindlewald. Obviously he can do whatever he wants. I mean, the man might as well be the de facto ruler of wizarding Britain. And who would believe some random Slytherin students; they are obviously lying and even if they weren’t, a _friendship,_ with students from _other houses?_ Impossible, they would have obviously been plotting something; they are _Slytherins,_ after all.”

    “Yes, I get your point Ed; can you perhaps tone back the sarcasm? I didn’t mean it as an actually question.”

    “I’m sorry; it’s just _so frustrating_ , what my house has been turned into- and worse yet, the students seem to a _ctually believe_ what is said about them or at the very least have figured, ‘well, since I’ve been sorted into the Pariah House might as well live up to stereotypes and do nothing but Dark Arts and spout pureblood propaganda since my life career choices seem to be limited to Dark Wizard and/or Convicted Felon, oh, or Corrupt Politician of course. Can’t forget that Ministry Pride.’ It’s a _nightmare._ Cunning seems to have somehow translated to-well nothing really, or maybe just, _lying skills._ Ambition seems to mean either riding their ancestor’s coattails and fortune, working their way up through the Ministry to manipulate the Minister or Wizengamot, or, alternatively, trying to take over the world. Self-preservation seems to mean coward and no one, _no one,_ has any idea what my house was _supposed_ to be. Once again: frustrating.”

    “Well,” Peter offered, “ _my_ house seems to be nothing but self-righteous, loud, arrogant sods that may or may not be bullies. Courage seems to have translated to reckless and careless, daring and nerve into impudence and rudeness, and chivalry is nowhere to be seen.”

    “My Eagles are bookworms; they seem to prize hoarding knowledge like a dragon with gold. They should be helping the rest of the school, not looking down their noses at the ‘uneducated and unintelligent’ plebeians. Wisdom is the _practical application of knowledge_. Not just simply reading and retaining.”

   “Well, apparently my badgers might or might not be serial smokers of mind-altering drugs if the rest of the school is to be believed; I’ve yet to confirm this. But for now, they are fair-weather friends who can’t think for themselves. They’ve pretty much been swept to the kerb by the rest of the school.”

    They were silent as they lamented over how far their houses had fallen, how they no longer worked together but fought and derided one another; this was not at all what Hogwarts was meant to be.

    “And can you believe the Defense Professor?” Peter asked out of the blue.

    “Well,” Susan said, “apparently he used to be the Muggle Studies Professor then he went on a trip to Albania for field experience or something. He was attacked by vampires or some such and hasn’t been quite right since coming back. Not to mention the post is supposedly cursed.”

    “What?!” Lucy exclaimed. “Cursed? How long has this been going on? Surely the Headmaster or _someone_ would have broken a _curse_ on a _teaching position_ at the _only_ notable school in the entire Country!”

    “You would think,” Susan murmured. “But apparently the curse has been on the post for 40 years or so. Quite frankly, it’s astounding that people are still applying. No wonder the teacher isn’t that good, by this time we must be pretty much scraping the barrel. I wouldn’t be surprised if the only ones left are frauds or psychos.”

    Peter chimed in with, “Makes me wonder about the state of the Wards, if She hasn’t managed to rid herself of the curse.”

   “We could go look but we won’t be able to do anything about them until Winter break since we would need seven hours feeding in our magic, a three hour break, another seven hour stretch, another three hour break, one more seven hour stretch, another three hour break, and then the thirteen hour meditation ritual to guide the Wards. And it’ll take all four of us, maybe even more than one session.” Edmund said.

    “I’m exhausted just thinking about it,” Lucy groaned.

    “Then we’ll have to exorcise that ghost-well, we should exorcise most of the ghosts; I don’t know why the previous headmasters have allowed the ghost population so flourish so much since all they are doing is sucking the magic out of Hogwarts to support their own continued existence. Especially that poltergeist that-quite frankly-is a hazard to the staff and students.”

    Lucy groaned, “I just remembered: Dumbledore’s welcoming speech-the left hand side of the third corridor is _off limits to all those who do not wish to die a very painful death?!_ In our school!?”

    “I have the feeling that’s not the least of it. He won’t just let Harry have a nice, carefree school year, not with the way he planted the Weasley’s and not with the way he cultivated Gryffindor House’s reputation into that of righteous and just warrior-adventurers, and not with the way he can’t seem to not control everything in the world; he’s going to delve into Harry’s heart and mind and motivations, to make sure his little weapon is coming along nicely.”

    “Yeah, about that: why do you think Harry is suited for Slytherin? I mean, I’m in his _House_ and I can’t see anything but red and gold when I look at him. He is Gryffindor to the bone.” Peter shook his head. “So far, he seems like any other boy: a bit lazy in his studies, fun loving, I mean sure, he doesn’t shout very often but that red headed best mate of his does enough for the both of them and is even lazier but Harry is still exactly like one would expect of an eleven year old Gryffindor boy.”

    “You all saw the thinness, the over-sized and ragged clothes, the broken glasses, the _bruises._ All of these things point to abuse-rather extreme abuse, I suspect. To have survived this long he would need to be cunning. And he is- I saw it in the way he looked around the station. But what did you say, ah yes, ‘he’s exactly like one would expect of an eleven year old Gryffindor boy’? As I said on the train, my little griffinsnake is hiding in the grass. Imagine what his life has been like; he’s had to be-or at least try- to be exactly what would see him to surviving the next day. Years of being what other people wanted, to survive; now he’s been thrust into a completely new world, one that hails him as a Saviour, they’ve been waiting for him to come to Hogwarts and make his debut as a wizard for _years_. All that fame, all those expectations, an entire new world with new rules to learn and follow so he’s defaulted: he’s found the closest and perhaps most _normal_ example he can follow and he is, he is being _exactly what they expect him to be._ And no one can even tell. There it’s only Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, not Just Harry.”

    “That’s awful,” Susan cried, her heart aching for the young boy.

    Edmund shrugged, seemingly uncaring. “That’s his life.”

    Lucy stood up with fire in her eyes and declared- _promised_ \- “Well, we’re going to change that _._ ”

    “Yes,” Peter said. “Yes we will. We’ll change everything if we have to, to keep Harry safe _and happy._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far, I sincerely hope you've enjoyed it and that you stay with me as I write this. I think we all know what's coming up next... TROLL. IN THE DUNGEONS... thought you ought to know.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess which bitch is gonna watch Fantastic Beasts for the first time. This bitch. This bitch right here.  
> On a side note...wait, what was I going to write? Hmm, ummmm.... Hn. Ah well, thank you everyone for your lovely comments and the kudos.  
> Ah, yes! Looky there, I didn't lie! I managed to get the troll scene AND in a week since I said I would; you guys are lucky I love you all or I would have just read fanfic instead of sit down and write this.

    The First Years had flying lessons. This was an undisputed fact and had been part of the curriculum since four young wizards and witches had decided to embrace the cliché they had grown up with: witches fly on broomsticks. It hadn’t taken a lot to convince their initial Charms mentor that flight on a household appliance would be the next big thing, like indoor plumbing (“It’s gonna be big,” Lucy nodded sagely). And that was why Lucy was giggling to herself as she skipped to the South Quad with the rest of the First Year Hufflepuffs.

    It was a beautiful day, in her humble opinion; the sun was shining, the tank was clean—wait, what. Anyways, it was one of the first chances Lucy had gotten to interact with Harry since the Sorting Ceremony, since some doddering old fool seemed to think Gryffindors and Slytherins were just the best of friends and should be together _all the time_ and the phrase “familiarity breeds contempt” apparently never met his acquaintance. Either way, not only could she see Harry this class but the red-head and That Blond Malfoy Brat, as Edmund called him.

    “Hello Harry,” Lucy greeted, taking the initiative that sadly wasn’t found very often in her house and much less by peer-pressured first years.

    “Erm, hello, Lucy,” Harry fidgeted. It’s not that he didn’t like the Pevensies but his instincts screamed at him to stay away from them. These same instincts had kept him alive this long and had, even on occasion, saved him from punishments. The Pevensies were to put it simply and in his aunt’s words, _not normal_. They…were special, the other part of his brain acknowledged. They could and most probably would change the world.

    He wasn’t blind; he had seen the particularly satisfied gleam in the Headmaster’s eye when the old man had raised his goblet in subtle congratulations when he was Sorted. He had felt the rush of loyalty, trust, and gratitude for the man when he drank his pumpkin juice after the Welcoming Speech. Harry was, as he thought of himself, nothing if not contrary. He had spent his whole life fighting internal battles; he wasn’t about to give into the varied voices and urges inside of him. But the Pevensies… he couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself. And he would draw attention by being friends with them, hence his dilemma: accept their genuine friendship and lose his ability to live somewhat freely without heavy gazes dogging his every move, or keep them on the absolute fringes and keep all of them from unnecessary scrutiny.

    Lucy saw the internal war going on behind Harry’s eyes and spared him by turning and holding out her hand to the red-headed boy standing next to Harry. “Hello, my name is Lucy Pevensie; I met Harry on the platform along with my brothers and sister. What’s your name?”

    Ron was startled at the abruptness of her address but what little social niceties his mother had drilled into him reflexively had him responding to her handshake and replaying, “Ron Weasley; met Harry on the train.”

    “How are you doing in Gryffindor so far? My older brother got Sorted there and if I recall he said something about rooming with two Weasleys… Would they be your brothers?”

    “Yeah, Fred and George. Blimey, he has to room with them?... My condolences.”

    Lucy snorted. “Yes, that does seem the sentiment to express; one morning he showed up with bright blue and yellow hair. His face had purple stars and lightning bolts painted on it. We almost fell out of our seats when we saw it; incidentally and in related news, we became the first group to get kicked out of the Library for being ‘loud nuisances’ of the school year.”

    Ron was awe-faced. “Wicked.” His face broke into a brilliant grin.

    Lucy was on the verge of including Harry in the conversation when the teacher blew her whistle and called the class to order (no one wanted Moo Goo Gai Pan or sweet and pungent shrimp, sadly).

    After a short, rousing speech from the teacher, they moved up to the brooms. Lucy was next to the bushy-haired girl they had sort of met on the train who seemed to be having a bit of trouble calling the broom to her. Lucy leaned over a bit and said, “Just relax; you’re thinking about it too hard. A technical approach will only get you so far. Brooms are predisposed to… ‘clicking’ with a magical’s core. Just relax, focus on the broom, and let the charms do their work.”

    The young Gryffindor chewed on her bottom lip before nodding decisively and closing her eyes. “Up!” The broom smacked into her outstretched hand and she opened her eyes grinning wildly. “Thanks! I was ever so nervous; I didn’t sleep a wink last night- too busy reading all the books on broom flight I could get my hands on and I thought—Sorry, I’m babbling. My name’s Hermione. Hermione Granger.”

    “Lucy Pevensie. You shouldn’t worry so much; a lot of kids will have been on a broom for the first time today and it’s—.”

    “Longbottom, get down here now!” Madame Hooch shouted, drawing the girls’ attention. The situation quickly got out of hand as the broom alighted with the terrorized first year. A rampage through various courtyards ended with the boy hanging by his robes from an iron sconce.

    As the sound of rending fabric met the audience’s ears, Lucy’s body was already in motion without a thought, years of battle and teaching experience smoothly transitioning her into a fighting stance, feet spread for balance, right arm held curved behind her head, left arm steady in front of her, a quick step forward, a half circle-flick movement of her wrist as she brought her wand arm forward and shield arm behind her, and a shouted, “ _Arresto momentum!_ ” caught Longbottom before he could come crashing to the ground.

    There was a moment of supreme silence before everyone burst into action and shouts again. Lucy and Hooch were the first to reach Neville as the rest of the students crowded around. He groaned as he heaved himself upright, holding a hand to his head and weaving a little.

    “Madame Hooch, I think perhaps it would be best to take Longbottom to the Hospital Wing to make sure he’s alright, to get a calming draught at the very least,” Lucy added on, side-eyeing the first year as he started hyperventilating. “I was shown where it was, so I can take him, ma’am?”

       Hooch’s face was pale as she helped the boy up and did a perfunctory pat-down making sure nothing was broken. “Yes, please, Miss Pevensie; if you are sure of the way. And twenty points to Hufflepuff for quick reacting and advanced spell-skill,” She said a bit faintly before clearing her throat and straightening her spine, once more assuming an air of no-nonsense professionalism.

    Lucy gently guided to dazed and shaking Gryffindor from the quad and to the Hospital Wing, introducing herself and keeping up a soothing rambling so the poor thing wouldn’t go into too much shock before she could get a calming draught in him. By the time they had made it to the infirmary she knew that his name was Neville Longbottom, he was a pureblood from a long line of traditionally Gryffindor Aurors, he lived with his Gran, and his wand was his father’s; his Gran had insisted he use it when he started Hogwarts.

 

 

 

    Hermione Granger was intrigued and, if she was honest with herself, slightly jealous. Lucy Pevensie had moved with such fluidity and grace, her body obviously working off well-honed muscle memory—the kind that took _years_ of practice, Hermione knew, from years of ballet and gymnastics classes, to instill. Everyone assumed the Pevensies were Muggle-born from their name but that display had shown Hermione that Lucy-and very likely the rest of the Pevensies- had been tutored in magic for much longer than obviously legal. She resolved to find out more, and she wasn’t quite so proud so as to not acknowledge a higher source of knowledge and ask for help.  She truly was grateful for the assistance and advice rendered earlier.

   She was drawn away from her thoughts as the class started back up again. No matter that it was a nice idea to have all the first years in one lesson, she acknowledged, she thought it showed a certain level of ineptitude that bordered on the imbecilic to only have one teacher supervising a class that could be, as shown earlier, very dangerous in a rather physical way.

    _Take for instance the idiots currently mucking about over there,_ she thought acerbically. A group of Slytherins seemed to be throwing a small glass ball back and forth. _Wasn’t that the Remembrall Neville got this morning..?_ And yup, there was Harry and Ron, getting involved with all the brashness of lion cubs tripping over their paws in a mad dash forwards. She looked around for Madame Hooch, who was busy with some Hufflepuffs who were trembling so badly they were pretty much vibrating. How they were still on their brooms was a mystery to her as she looked at them. Seeing no help coming from that quarter, she carefully guided her broom over to the confrontation.

   “Boys!” She yelled, rather ineffectually, but far be it from her not to try to head off this obvious disaster, “Stop this right now! Madame Hooch will take points from _both_ houses and probably assign detention! Malfoy, you magpie, why do you even have Neville’s remembrall? Just give it here so I can return it to him later.”

     (When Hermione called Malfoy a magpie in first year, she would have no idea what sort of ripple effect this would have. Indeed, it was years later when Draco Malfoy conquered the Patronus Charm and a ghostly black and white bird flew from the end of his wand that an unseemly shrieked, “FUCK!” promptly docked Slytherin five points ‘for obscene language.’)

    “Shut up, Mudblood!” Draco said, nose in the air. Ron’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped, face blooming an unattractive red in his anger. The rest of the Slytherins also had reactions; Pansy Parkinson slapped Draco upside the head and screeched, “We _do not_ say that in polite society!”

    Draco quickly flew up a few feet, escaping the assault, and said, “If you want it Gryffindorks, go get it!” while chucking the remembrall with all his strength. Harry was across the quad before Malfoy could finish muttering, “wait until my father hears about this.”

    Hermione watched with her heart in her throat even as she noticed Madame Hooch was finally paying attention. She could barely see the remembrall, only could because of the thick gold banding around it that gleamed in the sunlight. Her breath caught as Harry followed its downward arch and went into a deep dive. She thought for sure she was about to watch a classmate careen into the ground but her scream caught in the back of her throat and she couldn’t peel her eyes from the scene in front of her. At seemingly the last moment, Harry’s hand grasped the remembrall and he pulled up, hovering a little of the ground. She let out a shuddering breath and glided to the ground; it was certainly more than enough excitement for one day and she no longer desired to be on a broom. The rest of the class was also landing, everyone yelling. Madame Hooch’s voice was the loudest to be heard until a commanding, “Mister Potter!” cut through the cacophony as Professor McGonagall strode through the doors at a brisk pace. She spoke a quick and quiet word to Madame Hooch before sweeping Harry up and absconding with him. Like any other force of nature she appeared and left just as quickly, leaving dumbstruck victims in her wake.

    It took a few minutes for everyone to recover from the shock, but the class was successfully ended and Slytherin was down fifteen points for reckless behavior, another five for unconscionable language, and Gryffindor was down five points for goading fellow students into being peacocking little brats. Not that that was quite the wording Rolanda had used for the last one but the effect was the same.

   

 

 

 

    News that Harry Potter was the new seeker for Gryffindor spread through Hogwarts like fiendfyre. While Harry was glad to have something that tied him to his late parents and he loved the freedom of flying, he could most certainly live without all the extra attention that came with it. And all the touching. It seemed that every student, teacher, and being in the castle suddenly wanted to shake his hand or clap him on the shoulder or give a friendly hug. This had the effect of putting Harry on knife’s edge; his skin crawled every waking moment and his smile was became almost blatantly strained- not that anyone but a certain four noticed. Hogwarts did her best to help her Favored out- wrapping him in a reassuring hug of magic and arranging her corridors to allow him to pass the fewest number of people as possible.

 

    Hermione had made good on her resolve to find out more about Lucy and was frequently seen in the Hufflepuff’s presence in the afternoon in sunny courtyards, occasionally with a few or all of the siblings present, doing essay for various classes since most of the coursework at this point of the year was theoretical. She would sometimes be successful in her attempts to wrangle Harry and Ron into studying with them, though Ron was always very vocal about the ‘slimy Slytherin’ so that Edmund and Ron and Harry were never seen associating. The subtle deprogramming of Ron’s ingrained house prejudices was slow going.

     This group started slowly growing as Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy made more friends and as students of all years and blood backgrounds came and went from the group like the ebb and flow of the tides but at the core of this group--this inter-house revolution-- were the Pevensie Four and Hermione Granger.

    It caused quite the stir during the subsequent staff meetings, particularly after the Pevensies took advantage of there being no school rule against sitting at other house tables during regular meals. Most of the teachers were quite ecstatic to see the progress in House Unity that the school was now making. At least one was decidedly not.

    This wasn’t to say that house prejudice wasn’t still rampant or that most of the school embraced these changes and this new diverse group; rather the opposite, really. But considering this was started by four lower year transfer students, the Pevensies felt it was a good job.

    During this time, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found out just why the left hand side of the third floor corridor was forbidden (quite unexpectedly, as Hogwarts had had no intention of leading her Favored and his friends to that dangerous place) and Harry learned all about Quidditch from the fanatic Fifth year Captain.

    Then came Halloween.

 

 

 

    It started an exciting day, being Friday and all, of course it was exciting. The day wouldn’t stay that way but of course no one knew that; although, to be fair, it was an exciting day, really, just not necessarily in a good way.  

    The first years would be starting practicals- first up being the Levitation Charm. The excitement was palpable; finally, _finally_ they would be allowed to use their wands, for real magic!

    Hermione was naturally the first one to master the charm, though she could have admittedly done it in a less condescending manner. Ron would never be a shining beacon of thoughtfulness and his male ego was sufficiently bruised enough to make him unnecessarily cruel. The boy, much like The Blond Malfoy Brat, had an almost uncanny ability to hit where it hurt on occasion, which luckily wasn’t as often as Draco since at least _that_ brat knew when to curb his tongue (though he rarely exercised the ability) and Ron didn’t. His siblings could attest to this fact and to the fact that once he cooled down, he was actually very, very sorry-whether he apologized for it or not.

    Thus Hermione was in the girl’s restroom when the rest of the school panicked over all the ghosts in the castle disappearing promptly at sunset all at the same time.  Lucy had joined her shortly afterward with a small basket of food she had wrangled from the house elves and words of comfort once she had heard that Hermione had shut herself up in the restroom to have a good crying jag. They were commiserating over how stupid and mean boys were, sharing stories from their pasts (Lucy even delved into some of the stories of Edmund from Before Narnia when he had been so, so cruel) and thus missed the Feast entirely. And of course they missed the moment when Professor Quirrell ran into the Great Hall screaming, “TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS! ...Thought you ought to know” before promptly crashing to the floor in a dead faint.

     In the moments after the dramatic delivery (really, Quirrell should have been an actor) all was quiet before a clap of thunder (really, _such_ dramatics) broke the calm and then chaos ensued before Dumbledore roared for silence and then continued in a calm tone, “Everyone will please not panic”—it wasn’t a suggestion—“Prefect will lead their houses back to their common rooms. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons.”—Those weren’t suggestions either.

    It sounded like such a reasonable plan of action when stated so calmly and with such authority; Peter, Edmund, and Susan exchanged glances, silently agreeing on who should point out the rather obvious. Peter’s voice—the one he used for bellowing across battlefields—rose above the clamor with a very polite and meek, “Professor, not to be disrespectful, but… isn’t the Slytherin common room in the dungeons? Would it not be better to stay in the Great Hall, where we can quickly do a head count and be in an easily defensible location that can be locked down, on top of that.”

    Dumbledore paused as all the students and some of the staff froze, realizing the implications of the orders they had so thoughtlessly started following. The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye extinguished and his visage iced over before quickly transforming into a grandfatherly smile, “Ah, indeed young Mister Pevensie, an excellent point. Forgive this old man for so quickly wanting to ensure my students’ safety that I overlooked this; fifty points to Gryffindor for thinking of the safety of your fellow students and having the courage to speak up, even when going against those in position of authority. Prefect will call roll while half the teachers some with me to the dungeons.”

    Harry elbowed Ron sharply in the side and hissed, “Hermione is in the girl’s bathroom; she doesn’t know about the troll. Come on. Follow me.” And with that Harry used the SneakSkills™ that allowed him to slip into the kitchen and pilfer food when he really, _really_ needed it. The three Pevensies in the Hall noticed this little disappearing act but Edmund, being Slytherin, couldn’t follow; Susan, having no real connection couldn’t follow; and Peter, being the current center of attention, could not follow either. Something like the memory of a whisper swept through their minds reassuring them, “ _I will ensure they make it to where Helga and Hermione Granger are; the troll warps my magical field so I can do nothing but keep track of the beast."_ It would have to be enough.

    Harry and Ron ran through the corridors to the bathroom that Neville had said Parvarti had told him she was in. The door was splintered and a horrible stench was emanating from within. The inner Gryffindor took them over and they rushed in like bulls into a china shop only to freeze upon the sight they came upon.

    Lucy had heard Hogwarts whisper a warning, giving her enough time to maneuver herself and Hermione out of the main bathroom chamber and into the small hallway that lead to the attached shower room before the door was broken in an almighty crash.

   Lucy stifled Hermione’s scream with a hand over her mouth before peeking into the chamber and then murmuring to Hermione, “Okay, it’s a mountain troll, fully grown looks like. You remember the facts about them? Their skin is spell resistant?” Hermione nodded, Lucy’s hand still over her mouth, eyes wide with terror. “You know the Stunning Spell? Incantation is Stupefy and the rest movement is a tight widdershins twist? I know it’s a fifth year spell but I think you can pull it off. Now, I said magic _resistant_ which means, not that magic _can’t_ take it down but that we’ll have to cast simultaneous, which strengthens the spell.”

    Hermione took a deep breath, visually calming down before nodding. Lucy dropped her hand and guided Hermione through a proper tight widdershins twist, ensuring Hermione would be able to cast the spell the first time. Lucy then reached out with her magic, synching it to Hermione’s magic as the more experienced. They edged around the corner; Lucy counted it out, tapping against Hermione’s shoulder. On three their magic surged at the exact same time, incantation and wrist movements perfectly in synch. The double spell caused the creature to sway wildly but it didn’t go down. Instead it roared, turning to face them and raised its club. “Again!” Lucy commanded. One nanosecond before they were to cast a shout of, “Hermione!” broke their concentration and they could only stare in horror as the club descended.

    Harry sort of wanted to punch himself for shouting Hermione’s name; _it was such a Gryffindor thing to do_ , he thought disgustedly, _charging in shouting when there’s not the slightest clue of the situation._ In slow motion he watched the troll swing downwards towards the girls. _They’re going to die and it will be all my fault because I couldn’t shut my thrice-damned mouth and distracted them._ His world seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. And then a steady denial rang through him, like a gong being struck deep in his core. _No._

_No._

_No._

Steel set his spine and his chin lifted in defiance. He would not let this happen. He _would not allow this to happen._ Something inside of him crumbled as he calmly raised his left hand parallel to the floor, then clenched and twisted. The effect was instantaneous; the troll roared in pain, hands going to clutch its head. Unfortunately for the troll it was still holding the club which was then introduced to its head, knocking it unconscious.

    A shuddering shiver went down Harry’s spine as he let his hand fall to his side while he crumpled to his knees. Ron was staring at him in something a little like awe and a lot like horror. Hermione was also staring, wide eyed and silent. Lucy however, was rushing forwards, hands fluttering over Harry to make sure he was sorta-fairly-fine. A sharp glance at the staring Gryffindors told her she would need to contain this. “ _You haven’t much time; the teachers are on their way,”_ Hogwarts whispered to her.

    “Alright,” she said, her voice breaking the silence. “That was accidental magic; that was _all_ it was, nothing Dark I can guarantee that; Hogwarts doesn’t allow the performance of Dark magic by fourth years or below, accidental or not- it’s in the Charter from the founding of the school. However, not many outside the Headmasters or Mistresses know the Charter.

    “Now listen to me, in this day and age the conclusion people will jump to is that he used Dark magic so we are going to tell an alternate truth when the teachers come. We will tell them that Hermione and I missed the Feast because of a thoughtless boy’s nasty comment caused Hermione to cry the whole afternoon and I wanted to comfort her. You and Harry, Ronald, knew Hermione wasn’t at dinner and came to warn her of the troll-which is what I assume actually happened- you came in and found us about to be killed by the troll; Harry used accidental magic to- basically it was an Accidental Petrification Spell- and you used the Levitation Charm and knocked the troll out with its own club.”

    She had barely finished speaking and hauling Harry to his feet before hurried footsteps could be heard and then Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Quirrell were there. The story went off without a hitch. Lucy and Harry seemed to be the only ones who noticed the blood on Snape’s leg and the tension between the potions and defense professors. McGonagall awarded points to Lucy for comforting a fellow student, especially not of one’s own house and to Harry for sheer dumb luck. Flitwick awarded Ron points for harnessing his schoolwork in such a distressing situation, showing fortitude under fire that was to be admired especially in one so young. Snape took no points.

    The children were sent to the Infirmary where they were checked over; no injuries except for some magical exhaustion on Harry and Hermione’s parts- they were told to eat a hearty dinner and go to sleep early. The rest of the Pevensies, alerted by Hogwarts, had met them in the infirmary.

    Ron didn’t even make a big deal about being near Edmund, seeing in him the same concern Bill and Charlie had expressed when Ron had fallen out of the apple tree. No, Edmund wasn’t a Slytherin right now; he was just a very worried big brother.

   The siblings exchanged glances, Peter and Susan standing to cast privacy wards while Edmund unobtrusively scanned for eavesdropping charms-which upon finding, he promptly dismantled. Ron was now a little perturbed and wary but wasn’t going to say anything yet.

    Peter filled Lucy and Hermione in on what had happened on their end then Lucy did the same-the truth this time. Ron made a protesting sound in the back of his throat to which Lucy finally gave an exasperated sigh and said-ending quite fiercely, “Edmund may have been Sorted into Slytherin but he’s not evil or Dark or whatever and he would _never_ betray us; you have _no idea_ who he is or what we have been through before coming here and you could _only hope_ to be even a fraction of the man my brother is. He—.”

    “Enough Lucy,” Edmund said quietly.

    Quiet descended upon the group. Ron cleared his throat awkwardly and, looking down said quietly, “Sorry, I just—Growing up with my parents who fought on the side of the Light during the last war—they always talked about how many of Y-You-know-who’s followers were all in Slytherin and pureblood fanatics and that all of them were evil, you know.”

     “It’s fine, Ron. Part of growing up is thinking for yourself. I don’t begrudge your attitude towards me; at least you’re willing to set prejudices and give me a chance.” And with that quiet acceptance, Ron saw just how…poised Edmund was. It was an impression that would stay with him for years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the update; I sincerely hope I don't get another case of writer's block for the rest of Harry's first year.  
> I totally didn't mean to make Ron such a not-git this chapter. I meant for him to keep being rather petty but oh well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, disclaimer I guess, I do not own the Harry Potter-ness or the C.S. Lewis whatnot and I am sadly not making any money and I have at least quasi-quoted from the books and/or movie. And there was other stuff I was going to add but I've forgotten what it was.

    The next morning the Pevensies decided to eat breakfast together at the Gryffindor. Hermione of course wanted to sit next to her only other girl-friend and promptly dragged her boys to sit over next to her. Subtle rearranging when they saw Hermione with the griffin-boys in tow ensured Edmund was next to Peter, next to Harry, next to Ron. Hermione sat across from Harry with Susan to her right, across from Peter and Lucy to her left, across from Ron, making Edmund’s seat the most awkward for talking to Harry. This seating arrangement served multiple purposes. First, it nominally separated Harry from Edmund’s influence while allowing him to stay with his family. Secondly, Peter and Susan- the eldest of the four- provided a physical barrier, sending the subtle message that they themselves were keeping their ‘black sheep’ brother away from tainting the ‘golden boy’ and thus proving they were mature, mindful, and unwilling to set nepotism above the good of the wizarding world. Dumbledore would see this, among other things, and continue his mental ‘should I let them close to Harry’ investigation. Their seeming unconscious arrangement spoke of many things, and yet like all careful constructs, the truth was something radically different.

    Hermione and Susan were trying to coax Harry into eating something while Ron and, surprisingly, Lucy were trying to bully him into eating. Peter leaned over and softly spoke into Harry’s ear while handing him a bottle, “Stomach soother from Ed,” having been stealthily handed the bottle by an unsurprised and thus prepared Edmund. Harry downed the potion and gave Edmund a grateful tilt of his head as he caught his eye. He dropped his eyes to his plate as Edmund smiled gently at him, embarrassed, before tucking in to his breakfast so he had something else to occupy his mind.

    Seeing Harry’s reaction, Edmund’s mouth turned up wryly so he covered his mouth with his hand, using it to tilt his head in the direction of the Hall’s door. He followed Snape out of the corner of his eye as the professor made his way towards the High Table, slowing as he came up to Harry and stopping behind Peter. Edmund twisted to his right so he could observe.

    He thought he might have seen Snape’s hand make an aborted motion to clasp themselves and fidget but the professor restrained himself, merely settling himself more firmly on his uninjured leg. “Good luck today, Potter. Then again, now that you have proven yourself against a troll, a quidditch match should be simple-even if it is against my Slytherins.” Read: “I hope you don’t get hurt but I can’t very well tell you. I do actually wish you luck; you’ll probably need it seeing as how my Slytherins are ruthless to the point of near-murder (I am both proud _and_ ashamed of this fact). I am still mad about that troll stunt- happy you’re not hurt- but that’s not gonna stop me from being a passive-aggressive bitch to you.” Edmund’s eyes narrowed in contemplation and his eyebrow quirked upwards.

    As the professor began to sweep away he called out to the man, “Eh, Professor Snape, could I perhaps talk to you later in your office; it’s to do with that extra-curricular assignment about how various basilisk parts interact with asphodel.” If what Hermione had said about the Gryffindors’ first potions class was accurate Snape would know exactly what he meant. By how Snape’s eyes grew cold and his eyebrow went up, he could only assume the message was received.

    “Indeed,” was all that was said before Snape flared his robes and billowed away with dramatics that made the four monarchs envious.

    “Man, I wish I could do that,” Peter said.

    Lucy smirked, “Like you need a way to further express your drama-queen tendencies.”

    “Silence, you peasant,” he deadpanned. He was about to continue when he heard a quiet, “That explains the blood,” from Harry. “Sorry, what was that, Harry? What explains the blood?”

    Harry bit his lip, debating. “Last night, Snape had blood on his leg. If he let the troll in as a diversion and went to the third floor corridor and got attacked by the three-headed guard dog- that would explain the blood.”

    “That is reasonable. But don’t become convinced of theories; that’s what blinds you to truths later revealed,” Susan advised, to which Edmund nodded, agreeing. He added on, “Always second guess motives; people are three dimensional and with just as many reasons for doing things as there are consequences to their actions or inactions.”

    Breakfast passed quickly after that and then it was time for Harry to meet up with the rest of his teammates and get changed. Everyone had decided to walk Harry partway there as a sign of support. When the group separated to go their separate ways Edmund lagged behind. “Harry,” he said quietly, stopping the younger boy. Edmund stood before him and scanned his face with his eyes. He gave a reassuring half-smile and reached forwards, cupping the base of Harry’s skull and carding his hair. “It’s going to be alright; just trust your instincts for danger. If anything starts going wrong, know that any of the four of us would save you, even if it meant expulsion and I’m not just saying that. Instantaneous and unbreakable bonds _can_ be made-it’s rare but somehow we Pevensies seem to make nothing _but_ those bonds-and that is the kind of bond we and you share; you are Family. Wow; that got a bit more serious than I had meant to get; I just wanted to make sure you knew we wouldn’t let anything truly egregious happen to you.” He paused, “Good, yeah?”

     Strangely at ease, Harry nodded, “Good, yeah.”

     “Good luck; beat the stuffing out of my team, griffinsnake.” He grinned and started walking away. He only just barely heard Harry snort and say to himself, “Griffinsnake..?”

    Edmund jogged up to the rest of the group before they all went to their seats. Peter and Susan would go with Ron and Hermione to the Gryffindor stands while Edmund went to sit in the Slytherin section, Lucy opting to go with him as the one least likely to get kicked out of the stands, being a meek and harmless Hufflepuff. She nearly snorted aloud at the thought and had laughed herself into a fit of hiccups when the reasoning had come up earlier when they talked about how to handle the game day seating. Besides, Edmund was her favorite.

    The stands were packed but they had managed to get seat towards the front and in the middle, perfect for being overheard. Pansy Parkinson happened to be sitting directly in front of them with Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass on either side of her; she was still giving Draco the cold shoulder for his faux pas with Granger _in mixed company_. As offspring from two Grey families, Blaise and Daphne had supported Pansy in her attempt to train Draco (rather like an errant puppy that peed on the floor).  Behind them were upper years mixed together; truly a perfect spot for being overheard. The two settled in for a marathon snark fest and hoped the Slytherins would appreciate it.

    Madam Hooch stood in the middle of the field, her voice carrying with no need for a _sonorous._ “Now I want a nice, clean game- from all of you.”

    Lucy and Edmund snorted, Lucy commenting to Edmund, “Yeah, that’s about as likely as me catching the snitch and winning the game for Hufflepuff.”

    Edmund rebutted with a light, “Those lungs though… Did she learn that trick from an army general or was it inborn, do you think? Impressive, considering she didn’t use magic.”

    “Makes me think of boot camp sergeants; do you think she ever woke anyone up like that?” Lucy felt very satisfied with herself as the surrounding area was overcome with shudders. Edmund covertly tapped her fist, acknowledging a point earned. This had been a game for the two all the way back in Narnia when they were forced to attend public entertainment events and were seated with other high society- those types never could just _not eavesdrop._ So they had developed a game- with a point system and everything- seeing just how many reactions they could get out of the ones who surrounded them. Usually to the point Susan had to stop them, lest an international incident breakout. However, Susan wasn’t here; she was sitting in the Gryffindor section and so the two siblings just exchanged demonic grins before turning back to the game.

    The game was fierce. Within the first ten minutes three players were almost unbroomed and a teacher narrowly missed a kicked to the head (“Shame; divination could have been cancelled.”). Angelina Johnson had scored (“Well, at least Jordan has good taste.”) Flint (“Face like a caveman, that one.”) had tried to score which was blocked by Wood. The resulting glaring between the boys had Lucy leaning over to sing-song softly to Edmund, “Sexu-aaaalll teeeensiiiiiiooooonn~~~.” which made Edmund-and half the surrounding Slytherins- to choke on a snort. Harry had almost been hit by a bludger (“What’s your friend doing, Lu? If he wants to watch a quidditch game he should wait until he’s not _playing_ one.”), and one of the Weasley twins had managed to get hit in the head with the quaffle (“Peter assures me that won’t be damaging anything; apparently it takes significant force for something to get through their heads. Would you think that’s a demonstration of Weasley stubbornness or Gryffindor thick-headedness?” “Whichever it is it still won’t give us a reason Peter showed up dressed like an Alaskan salmon with a pineapple stuck to his hand speaking Finnish.” “I don’t think there’s going to be an explanation for that one Lucy.”)

    The commentary turned scathing when Flint decided to knock out the Gryffindor Keeper. “I thought I was told when I was Sorted that Slytherin was the house of cunning, not the house of ham-handedly blunt escapades suited to the bumbling minions of a comic book Evil Overlord.”

    Lucy nodded, “You _would_ think that they would cheat in a way that was a bit more subtle. Like casting wandless tickling charms at the beaters when they’re about to bat the bludgers or wearing really reflective material so the other team can’t look at them without burning their eyes out, _perhaps_ even developing a subtle system of hand signs for the rest of the house to tip off the seeker to the whereabouts of the snitch; not just… beating the competition-literally. This was _not_ what they meant by knock out the competition.”

    “Luce, don’t ever stop being an evil mastermind.”

     Then Harry’s broom was jinxed. That Blond Malfoy Brat could be heard crowing, “Hah! Looks like Potter’s not as good at riding a broom as he thinks he is! Wait til my father hears about this!” Lucy and Edmund were already scanning the crowd as she absently said, “The blond does realize he just made a sexual innuendo, doesn’t he?”

     They found the source of the interference in the Teacher’s Box where Snape wasn’t blinking and was muttering under his breath. However, what they also saw was that creepy defense teacher uncharacteristically still, also not blinking, with his hands clasped before him. A glance at each other and they were lancing their magic across the stadium to link with the potion’s professor. The man startled at the feel of their magic and broke eye contact to glance at him; he saw them clasp hands and felt their magic flare in a count off as they nodded and raised their eyes to Potter’s figure, who was holding on with one hand. At the third count they all simultaneously started the counter again. With three magics working against the one, though it was stronger, they were finally making headway. Then Snape realized that burning smell was _him_ and he “accidently” knocked Quirrell over as he was getting up to stomp out his robes.

    Harry’s broom stabilized completely and he was able to haul himself back onto his broom. The Weasley twins stopped by on each side of him for a brief moment to make sure he was alright before going back to play- with a vengeance; they didn’t like feeling helpless and the broom thing had made them feel just that. It also didn’t help them that Harry was currently on a dive so steep they were left wondering if he had suddenly become suicidal.

     Harry led the Slytherin seeker on a merry little race around the pitch, making sure to lower his altitude to something non-fatal as he forced the other seeker to follow him into a dive; having an attempt on his life never left him in a very gracious mood-on the contrary they always left him feeling ruthless- so he didn’t really feel bad as the other seeker was unable to recover from the dive fast enough not to crash. Luckily the snitch really was where he was heading so he could pretend he hadn’t intentionally crashed the other seeker and could make it appear he had been chasing the snitch in single-minded determination. (“It appears Harry does _not_ take kindly to people trying to kill him, Edmund had murmured to Lucy too quietly for nosey Slytherins.) Gryffindor won the game when Harry nearly swallowed the snitch. (“Does he know he’s supposed to catch the snitch with his hand and not his face?” Edmund had asked airily and rather loudly to which Lucy responded with a vicious elbow to his side.) As had been established in their own game, the loser had to give their help to the winner in a task of the winner’s choosing; “We’re going to search the Forest for the unicorn herd,” Lucy told Edmund.

     The Gryffindors had flooded the pitch and was surrounding the team who had Harry on their shoulders. Edmund watched Harry in full-on Gryffindor Glory Mode and leaned down to Lucy, “Tell him I said congratulations. I’d stick a bit closer but I have a conversation with a dungeon bat.”

    “I’m sure he understands, Edmund. Better than he should, most definitely; why else do you think out of the four of us I’m the one he lets closest while he hardly talks to even Peter—he knows what Dumbledore would think if he were to be close to such unknown entities.”

 

 

 

     Severus Snape was not in the habit of humoring children, which was why he was staring at his office door so darkly. However, he was also not in the habit of turning down opportunities to have answers and the questions he wanted to ask were of the utmost importance and personal to boot. Before the quidditch game he had wanted to know just what the young Pevensie thought he was playing at asking about ‘interactions between Lily and the Dark Lord’, the gall of the child. But now, he wanted to know _just who the Pevensies were._ And he would get his answers.

    Three sharp knocks preceded the second year Slytherin’s entrance. Edmund Pevensie quietly closed the door and leaned against it with his hands behind his back, observing the head of house even while he in turn was observed. After a long, long moment the stillness was broken when Edmund said, “Before I disclose any… sensitive information, I need you to answer some questions.”

    Severus’ eyebrow ticked up, “Indeed, and I, Mister Pevensie, what will you give _me_ to prove yourself trustworthy?”

    Edmund held his eyes as he carefully pulled up his left sleeve to show his unmarred forearm.  

    “And why would _this_ be proof?”

    “Are you asking because you truly don’t know what I mean by this gesture or because you don’t think a twelve year old has the thinking capacity to truly understand all the implications?”

    Snape smirked a bit, “Admittedly, the latter.”

     “I thought as much, given the way your condolences were given to Mr. Potter; you don’t seem the type to not understand.”

     “Whatever do you mean?”

     “Come now, Professor; playing dumb does not suit you.”

    Snape paused. Though the child was twelve it seemed this was one to tread carefully around. “Indeed. Are you going to stand by the door this whole conversation or are you going to sit down?”

    Pevensie smiled and walked to the chair in front of Snape’s desk sitting with a “thank you, Professor” as Snape leaned back and steepled his fingers before his face. Edmund decided to explained exactly what he meant by showing his bare arm as a sign of trustworthiness. “I meant that I know you’re Dumbledore’s spy and that I know you don’t work for Voldemort- you probably haven’t since he killed Lily Potter or before. I meant that I myself am not a Death Eater, nor do I aspire to become one. If I did, I wouldn’t have bared my arm as a sign of _trustworthiness._ Now, what I would like to know is _why_ you have a vested interest in keeping Harry safe. Truth for truth,” he stipulated, “do you agree to this condition?”

    Snape felt the magic in the room rise, making an ambient Pact, should he accept. There were many reasons to do either but if the child had already parsed out his true allegiance without ever having a proper conversation with him before he knew the boy could find out any number of things about him, on the other hand, this looked to be his one chance to hear his answers and _know_ they are the truth. “Truth for truth, so mote it be.”

    The magic in the air snapped into effect, binding the two to truthfulness for the conversation. Snape waved his wand setting up wards against eavesdroppers and locking his door. “I took an Unbreakable Vow to keep Lily’s child safe.”

        “A vow to whom?”

     “Dumbledore. To understand, I would have to tell you that Lily and I grew up together; she was my only friend and that did not change when we attended Hogwarts. We were in the same year, as was Potter’s father. To put it mildly, we did not get on. However, during an… incident, he gained a Life Debt from me which I have been unable to repay, thus it passed to his spawn,” Severus spat. “Due to an unfortunate occurrence the friendship between Lily and myself ended fifth year; I fell deeply into the study of the Dark Arts and later joined the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord eventually… he went after the Potter’s. When I heard he was planning to go after them, I went to Dumbledore and begged him to save her. After scolding me for not caring about the life of my school torturer, he gave me the ‘choice’ to spy for him; if I hadn’t well, it would be Dumbledore’s responsibility to report a confirmed Death Eater to the Ministry.

    “The very night Lily died, he came to me and told me he didn’t believe the Dark Lord to be dead; that Harry needed to be protected and had me swear a Vow to protect Lily’s Son.”

    “He’s such a manipulative codger,” Edmund sighed while shaking his head. “So, a Vow to protect Harry…. Do you truly believe Dumbledore wants Harry _safe?_  Or rather, that Dumbledore is primarily concerned with Harry’s well-being instead of, for instance, how well he would do as a weapon for the Light?”

    “Why wouldn’t Dumbledore be concerned with his well-being; he made sure the brat was raised as a Prince.”

    Edmund met his eyes, “If you truly believe that, that Harry was raised spoiled and as a prince, you’re completely blind. Take a good look at that child, his thinness, his wariness around people and crowds, his avoidance of touch- the way he flinches from it and stiffens when getting hugs- _look_ at that and then tell me he was raised loved. Now, what’s your question for me?”

        Severus stared for several moments before following along with the subject switch, “ There are many things I wish to ask, for instance, what was it you and your sister did at the pitch, what your intentions are regards to Potter, any number of things but I find myself mostly wondering: _just who are the Pevensies?_ And this is the question I want answered the most: just who are the four of you?”

      Edmund regarded him calmly, crossing one leg over the other, “You realize, of course, that we have absolutely no desire-and furthermore no intention- of being controlled. I’ll trust in your sense of self-preservation instead of relying on a vow to keep your silence, since as one can see-especially in your case- vows can be worked around. Remember, this was a truth for a truth.

     “I was born in London. It was not, however, 1979; I was born in 1930. When I was ten, my siblings and I found ourselves in the countryside, where we came across the means to enter into quite literally, a whole new world. We crossed over into the Land of Narnia which at that time was held under sway of a… well, an evil witch. Due to a prophesy made at the near-beginning of Narnia, after the War was over, my siblings and I ruled as Queens, King, and for Peter, High King. 15 years of ruling; we had all but forgotten there was anything but Narnia- our lives before it seemed like a dream. During the Hunt for the White Stag, we found ourselves in the Woods that hid the entrance we had used; following half-remembered directions, we came out of the Wardrobe again.

     “It didn’t open back into where it was before; we… we came out at the Wood Between the Worlds and pfft, well we ended up in this world. Although, we didn’t, as one would expect, come out into _this time._ We found ourselves in a time long ago, now. We wondered what we were meant to do and the centaurs told us we had been sent to build a school, one that would become a pillar of knowledge and a safe haven for all those who seek it. We fashioned ourselves new names and became known Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, and Helga Hufflepuff. _That_ is who we are.”

    Snape wanted _so much_ to call him a liar but the magic wouldn’t have let the boy-no, man; he’d have been 25 just from his time in Narnia, to say nothing of however long they had lived here when they _founded this school_ \- in front of him. He had said self-preservation would have Snape keeping his silence and he was right. No one would be able to control the ones whose minds and magic had _made this school_. And nobody should be able to control them, shouldn’t even think to do so. However, he knew that if Dumbledore ever got wind that these transfer students were the Founders of Hogwarts, he would try to get them onside; he would see their apparent age and seek to control them. It must not happen. It was with this in mind that he asked his next question, “What is it you all seek to do?”

     “We are here because our School could no longer stand that her Champion her so mistreated. Her perception of time… she exists all at once; past, present, future, they are all happening at the same time to her. She didn’t want her Champion to be so ill-used and lonely and sad; she wanted to change his fate. So she sent us here to interfere. Though Harry isn’t technically her Champion yet, by virtue of her nature, she knows he one day will be; for now he is simply one of her Favored.”

    “And the one to mistreat and ill-use Mister Potter?”

    “We were given to believe many mistreated him, in varying degrees and that the one who so used him was, as you will have guessed, the Headmaster. That is the future we seek to change. Though, his mistreatment has, had, already started: as I said, _really look_ at him and you’ll see what I mean.”

    “I can only assume that the four of you each returned to your namesake Houses. In that case, what are your plans for the Slytherins?”

    “Oh,” Edmund said airily, “I’ll whip them into shape and drag this house back into the respectable one it _should_ be. Our houses had been a reflection of each of us and what we valued; I had been called Edmund the Just when I ruled and my House as Salazar Slytherin did me proud. Now… it’s such a disappointment. So, I guess I’ll take wee Malfoy’s reserved spot from him as Prince of Slytherin and then work my way in; I wouldn’t want to draw Dumbledore’s attention, and the upper years would revolt if a second year and muggle-born, to boot,  were to try for the Kingship. I’d have to beat the whole house into submission rather spectacularly and would undoubtedly land myself even further up Dumbledore’s watch list.”

    Snape nodded. “True. If there is nothing else, then please leave. You’ve given me much to think about and I wish to revise my plans for the future. Oh, and beware of Quirrell, I believe his master to be the Dark Lord.”

    And with that bombshell dropped, Snape herded Edmund to the door before sweeping off towards his chambers. Edmund scoffed, “Dramatic git.”

 

 

 

 

    Pansy Parkinson’s father was a Death Eater—allegedly! Allegedly a Death Eater; don’t just say things out like that—and she had been Sorted into Slytherin. There was some debate as to whether the Dark Lord was really dead or was simply lying in wait. Rich and influential families such as the Malfoy’s could afford to pretend that the War (and their parts in it) had never happened and that the Dark Lord would never rise again. However, for the lesser nobility, this belief was simply not feasible. Had Pansy been born a boy her future would already have been written in stone; she would have been educated and groomed as the perfect vassal should the Dark Lord rise (and he would, they had to believe that) and she would have been as good as Marked by the time she left Hogwarts.

    But Pansy was a girl. And as such, her future was both more and less assured. A Lady of her station would be expected to marry to the benefit of her family and dutifully live her life for her husband. What was still in question however, was where those particular chips fell. To marry another member of the traditionally Dark pureblood families, those who by view of the public were all Death Eaters and thus less than the mud beneath the public’s boot, or to marry into a family-still pureblood- but one that was more publically accepted. Whichever choice, the family had still needed to distance themselves from the Pureblood Fanatic look. To that end, the parents Parkinson, though they taught their children their ideals, had perhaps not been quite so strict in indoctrinating their children as they would have been otherwise since they knew slips happened and didn’t want their children to just blurt out pureblood sentiments, _especially_ in mixed company.

     And so Pansy was not _quite_ as prejudiced as she could have been, and also had the good sense to, if she was feeling particularly condescending of her lesser man, to _not say it aloud_. But on the rare occasion she could admit-and _only_ to herself- a certain…intrigue about Muggles and muggle-borns, particularly the ones like Pevensie and Granger. Well, not quite so much Granger but the Pevensie-all the Pevensie’s really- were, in her opinion, worth the intrigue. They were all in separate houses and yet didn’t let the peer-pressure stop them from associating; they didn’t let their houses define them either- she had heard Lucy and knew she had a cunning—and surprisingly devious—mind; Susan was shown to be courageous as she defended some first years being bullied; Peter was wise- when he was being calm, the rest of the time he was a doofus; and Edmund… he was fearless, among other traits from all the houses. They were all powerful she could sense, but being in Slytherin, she was able to observe Edmund more than his siblings.

     Edmund Pevensie was currently in the process of wresting the Slytherin House into submission, or at least the underclassmen. The older years simply stared blankly at whoever tried to get them to ‘put the mudblood in his place’ and told them to, “Go sort out your own squabbles; if you’re so weak you can’t beat a mudblood, you don’t deserve your status.” Draco’s own spot, by legacy and familial connections, was no longer guaranteed with the way Edmund was working his way through the ranks; Slytherins might appreciate family ties, but more than that, they respected power and those strong enough to seek it. In this, it was what Edmund had going for him; thought they didn’t respect his blood, they respected his strength, skill, and above all, his ruthlessness.

    But Edmund Pevensie wasn’t the reason Pansy was freezing her nips off—whoever decided knee length skirts only for the girls’ uniforms was definitely a man, and an _idiot._ No, Pansy was here because she wanted to speak to Lucy Pevensie; she would make a good asset, a good connection to have for the future—oh who was she kidding, with Lucy’s quick wit and loyalty and acceptance of like _everybody_ she would make a good friend, which is exactly what Pansy wanted, a friend who she could be herself around and _not_ worry about being backstabbed or her behavior reported to her father.

   

    Harry, Ron, and Hermione had wanted to visit Hagrid and Lucy, never having been introduced to him, had wanted to come along. However, the choice of conversation topic as they walked around the grounds left something to be desired, she thought.

    “Nonsense!” Hagrid was saying, “Now why would Snape be trying to curse Harry’s broom?”

    “’Cause he hates him!” Ron half-yelled; Lucy had to concede that point-the potion’s master did seem to have a special flame for Harry though he had admittedly cooled it down a bit since the quidditch game.

     “I’ve read all about spells; you have to keep eye contact and Snape _wasn’t blinking_ ,” Hermione was saying.

    “Actually,” Lucy cut in as Hagrid was about to open his mouth, no doubt to say something along the lines of ‘no Hogwarts teacher could ever intend ill especially to the students’, “he was performing a counter-jinx; Edmund and I helped him which is why Harry’s broom only gave the occasional twitch after he was left one-handed. The one who cast the jinx was someone else.” Given the way the kids were reacting she opted not to tell them they were almost positive it was Quirrell, mostly because they weren’t sure what exactly was up with the man yet and it would be better that the trio not run in half-cocked with only some of the truth.

    “Well, why was Snape trying to get by that three headed dog on Halloween?” Harry asked.

    “How’d you know about Fluffy?” Hagrid demanded, well as much as he ever demanded.

    “That _thing_ has a name?!” Hermione sounded rather condescending, Lucy thought.

    “Of course he’s got a name! He’s mine innit he? I bought ‘im off of an Irish feller I met down in the pub last year. Then I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—uh, shouldn’ta said that. No more questions you lot; that’s top-secret that is.”

    “But Hagrid,” Harry implored, “whatever Fluffy’s guarding, Snape’s trying to steal it.”

    “Codswollop. Professor Snape is a Hogwarts’ teacher.”

    “Hogwarts’ teacher or not, he _was_ within biting distance of Fluffy.”

    “Now, listen here you four; you’re meddling in things that ought not be meddled in. What Fluffy is guarding is strictly between Headmaster Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel.”

    “Nicholas Flamel?” Hermione asked, always eager for more knowledge with something chiming at the back of her head.

    “Shouldn’t ha’ said that. I should not have said that.” Hagrid was about to storm off.

    “Hagrid, that Cerberus of yours, what do you use to groom him? Because I’ve heard that thestral-hair brushes have particular properties that gets rid of parasites such as fleas and ticks.”

    “Do they? There’s a herd of thestrals that live in the Forest; they pull the carriages for us.”

    “Oh? Some of the older students were telling me there were unicorns in the Forest as well; how are they?”

    Hagrid’s face fell. “Not very well, actually; summat seems  ta be huntin’ them. What kinda crazed beast would hunt and kill a unicorn I’ve no idea but there’s been a whole rash of ‘em this year.”

    “That’s awful. It does make no sense; a unicorn gives off a particular aura that ushers other creatures away from killing it- even a deranged werewolf wouldn’t go near one. Only a… _really sick,_ like worse-than-rabid-sick creature would kill a unicorn. And you say they’ve been being hunted and eaten? For months?”

    “That’s the strange thing, that is; it wasn’t so much as eaten as it was their neck was chewed on, bloody mess they all were. But it was just the neck, and most of the unicorn was intact.”

     “Have you spoken to the centaurs; do they have any idea what’s been killing the unicorns?”

    “Nah, that centaurs don’t much like humans; though Firenze is an exception.”

    “Lucy Pevensie,” a girl’s voice called, putting a stop to the conversation.

    They looked over and to (most) of their surprise, saw Pansy Parkinson standing there shivering. She stalked forwards—it was not a stalk; it was a dainty and lady-like glide, thank you very much—until she was standing in front of the group. As a courtesy to being an adult Pansy gave Hagrid a nod of acknowledgement before nodding to the others. “I would like to talk to you, Lucy Pevensie—without your little hangers-on.”

    Hermione gave a small-ish scoff, “And why would she want to talk to a pureblood princess like you?”

   “Wow; way to sound like Weasley,” she looked at Ron, “Congratulations, I think you’ve been a bad influence on her.” She turned back to Hermione, “And for your information, I don’t condone what Draco called you; it’s inappropriate and on behalf of the Slytherin first years we wish to apologize for our poorly trained housemate—be assured the issue is being corrected. Now, my business isn’t with you all so if you would kindly clear off that’d be lovely, thanks.”

    “It’s alright guys; I wouldn’t mind talking to Parkinson either. In fact, Pansy, why don’t you come with me to the kitchen to have some hot chocolate; you look positively artic.” And the two walked off, Hagrid leaving soon after, leaving the gryffs to walk back to their common room alone.

    “So,” Harry said after making half the trek in silence. “Who is Nicholas Flamel?”

   “I dunno,” Hermione replied, already making plans to scour the library for why the name had sounded _so_ familiar. Ron shook his head, not knowing either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess we can see which ship I'm currently captaining in regards this fic. If anyone else has suggestions for side-pairings and whatnot, please comment; I enjoy reading suggestions and sometimes even consider them. Oh, that reminds me, what I was going to write at the beginning:  
> Has anybody been catching all the references I've been making? Cause like really, I quoted various Disney movies no less than four times last chapter and no one has said ANYTHING. Guys, if you don't say anything I'm gonna just go to town on this and it will be never ending references; don't give me that kind of power guys, just don't. It won't end well.


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